No One Stays Dead In Beacon Hills
by KPsTheWord
Summary: Well, this sure isn't how I imagined death to be like. SI-OC
**A/N: Hello everyone! I hereby announce that I have committed a sin; I'm writing a SI-OC story. I couldn't resist so here it is... I hope you enjoy and please review!**

 **DISCLAIMER: I don't own Teen Wolf.**

* * *

 _Prologue_

I was never a particularly driven or purposeful person. I just sat back and took whatever life threw my way without much of a fight, mainly because I had no reason to fight for anything. I didn't fight for peace and the good of others, I very much liked my laid back life and solitude since I wasn't very social either. And to be honest, I didn't really care about a lot of things, I was aware that I wasn't a very good person and was completely fine with that.

At least in my first life, that is.

Yes, you heard right. My first life. I died when I was nineteen years old and my death was just as boring as my whole life had been; I slipped. I lived in Canada my whole life and the winter night I died had been perfectly normal for me, I was on my way home from my job as an assistant in a library (perhaps one of the only passions I had was books) when I slipped and presumably hit my head. That's what you get for wearing sneakers in the middle of winter I suppose.

But anyway, I don't remember much from the time I was 'dead', other than the darkness. There were no angels singing or demons chasing after me with fiery pitchforks, only darkness and a constant thumping sound, like a big drum playing on and on. This went on for a long time and I often wondered why I was still aware of things, shouldn't dead people disappear somewhere and just cease to exist? Maybe this was what hell was like, you just stay alone in the darkness until you go nuts?

Luckily before I could go insane, things suddenly changed. It started off slowly, strange feelings like someone squeezing me every now and then, and after awhile they came more frequently. Then started the pressure. It was like being sucked into a vacuum cleaner, a highly uncomfortable experience. It didn't take long for the pressure to become painful, until stopping completely and a bright light blinding me.

After that, I don't remember much.

There are some flashes of short memories, mostly of someone crying or more like wailing like a baby as well as a kind, soothing voice and warm hands holding me. Time flew by and slowly I started regaining my wits. I became more aware of things, which could have been considered as a good thing if I wasn't so freaking scared of everything I saw and noticed.

First of all, the world wasn't the same. Everything was _huge._ In the house I spent most of my time in was like that designed for a giant, and when I realized that the constant and safe presence in the house was actually one of those giants, I panicked and wailed. I screamed from the top of my lungs and got even more scared when another cry could be heard from somewhere close to me. The giant came running towards me and the large bed with bars surrounding it where I was at that moment and scooped me up in her arms like I weighted nothing.

And that was the moment I realized something that would change everything; the world had stayed the same, it was I who had changed.

It was a terrifying and disturbing thought, I was a baby again. Not a newborn anymore as I could crawl and turn, but it took me a long time to even remotely accept this. It was my new mother who helped me the most, she was kind and extremely loving and she somehow managed to calm me down every time I became hysterical from all the confusion and uncertainty. She was incredible.

The rest of my family consisted of a man, most likely my father and another baby, who I assumed was my twin. It took me about a week after my first breakdown to start noticing other important facts. The family spoke english which was an immense relief, I wouldn't have to learn another language and I could already understand what my parents were saying. I soon learned the names of my mother and twin brother; Melissa and Scott. The names sparked some forgotten memory from my old life, but I couldn't grasp it and eventually just decided to let it go. I also noticed that our dad wasn't around all that much, Melissa was the one who took care of Scott and I.

The next couple of years went by fast and I couldn't shake off the feeling that I had known my current family in my old life. Instead of dwelling on it, I put all my focus into learning how to walk, talk and potty train myself. As expected for a child with an adult's mind, I learned to do all of those things way faster than Scott and thus was considered a genious of sorts by Melissa.

My first word much to my mother's joy was 'Mama' at my and Scott's very first birthday party. I was starting to grow somewhat comfortable with my new family, the memories from my old life slowly fading away as they were replaced by new ones.

By the time I was two years old, I was already very fond of Scott. He was adorable with big, brown eyes and the sweetest smile that could melt even the coldest heart. I looked a lot like him, brown eyes but my hair was a lighter brown compared to Scott's, who had almost black locks. But when it came to personalities, we were the polar opposities. Scott was sweet, like Melissa with a happy and sunny attitude. I, on the other hand, was way more serious child. Sure I smiled and laughed, but naturally my mental maturity affected my behavior in many ways.

* * *

One day, Melissa surprised Scott and I with 'an adventure'. I was wary at first, I didn't like surprises but Scott's enthusiasm was infectious and soon I was almost as excited as he was.

"How long still? Mom, how long still?!" Scott whined, jumping up and down with his tiny legs and I couldn't help but sigh, he had been super excited (and noisy!) all morning. Melissa was packing our lunch to take with us, chopping vegetables and making sandwiches. Turning around to face us (Scott had followed her and I had followed Scott), she pointed us with a particularly sharp looking kitchen knife and I gulped, she really was a bad ass mama.

"Calm down Scott or we won't be going at all." Melissa said in her listen-or-bad-things-will-happen voice and I had to bite back a chuckle when Scott nodded fervently, a terrified expression on his face. Melissa smiled and went back to chopping.

I could almost feel the want to ask Melissa just _one more_ time radiate from Scott and decided to save the situation, I was pretty curious what she had in mind for us myself and didn't want Scott to ruin everything. So I grabbed his hand and pulled him to the living room with me, ignoring his rather vocal protests.

"Where do you think Mama is taking us today?" I asked from Scott as we climbed on the plush couch, trying my best not to rip the hem of my new summer dress while doing so. When we were seated, Scott flashed me a toothy smile.

"Maybe she'll take us to play lacrosse! How cool would that be!" He gushed, almost shaking with excitement.

"But Mama said we're too young to play." I explained to him. I had also heard Melissa talk about Scott's asthma with our dad but I didn't have the heart to tell him that it would most likely keep him from playing even in the future. Scott had sworn to become the greatest lacrosse player ever and I had decided to humor him until he was old enough to understand why it would probably never happen.

"Yeah but we're already three! And I wanna play." Scott complained with a frown and I smiled at him before poking him on the forehead, earning another set of complaints.

"Don't whine, it's not cute."

"Well I dun wanna be cute!"

Our little argument was cut short when Melissa walked into the room, holding two plastic boxes which presumably held our lunches. We both stopped and beamed at her innocently, like the twins we were. Melissa just shook her head at us with a sigh.

"Okay kids, let's go. And Scott, remember to put your shoes on."

"Yeah!" We both chorused and jumped off the couch, rushing to put our shoes on and get going.

At that moment I felt happy and almost like a proper child and not the odd body snatcher that I really was. Pushing aside the disturbing thought, I went to help Scott with his shoes as I had managed to get myself ready already. And then we were off.

Turns out that the 'adventure' was a trip to the biggest park in Beacon Hills. Scott had long ago forgotten about his hopes to play lacrosse and was absolutely thrilled when he saw all the other kids there. Looking at Melissa with the biggest puppy dog eyes ever, he didn't even have to ask before she relented.

"Yes, you can go and play." Melissa said amusedly and with that Scott took off like a rocket, me struggling to keep up with him. If you haven't noticed, I'm fiercely protective of my brother thus, I follow him nearly everywhere outside our own home.

Completely distracted by my thoughts, I failed to warn Scott about running into a boy around our age before he was already barreling straight into the stranger, sending them both flying on to the grass.

"Scott! Are you okay?" I ran to help my brother, completely ignoring the other boy and began fussing over Scott. I checked his hands and knees for any injuries and was glad to find none, while he was trying his hardest not to cry, his lower lip quivering.

Before I could try to calm him down, the other boy sprung up back to his feet and turned to us with a wide grin.

"Hey, what are your names?! I'm Stiles Stilinski and my dad is the sheriff!" He exclaimed proudly and I froze.

 _Stiles Stilinski?_

Suddenly memories flooded into my mind like a dam had broken inside my head. _Scott... Stiles... Derek... Werewolves... Hunters..._

 _...Teen Wolf._


End file.
